A Proper Vintage
by JRTT
Summary: A short story of an alcohol and music infused evening at Netherfield


This story was another SHORT Playground piece that came to life at A Happy Assembly. It is a story about outrageously out of character, characters.

I gave the characters a context.

The Georgians LOVED their alcohol, all of them; the early, middle and late Georgians under George IV. They also loved house parties and friends would stay for weeks or months at each other's homes.

This story is also a tribute to Pinot Grigio, my favourite wine and to music and laughter. There is a touch of Katy Perry at the end for those who know.

It's also rated 'T'.

enjoy!

The stage is set at Netherfield and Jane is still ill.

* * *

 **A Proper Vintage.**

Once upon a time...nahhh LOL

* * *

It was the third night at Netherfield. She had just left Jane in her room ensconced securely amidst blankets and all manner of comforts as had been directed to the servants by the master to ensure that the lady and her sister were well taken care of during their stay.

As it was nearing the hour of 6pm, she knew that she should be leaving her own room to go down to dinner with the rest of the household. The prospect was not a pleasing one however, as was clearly reflected back at her in the form of a frown in the mirror.

Elizabeth practiced diligently at endeavouring to replace the creases of her frowns with gentler smiles. It all felt rather fake and affected. She smiled at her own foolish behaviour.

"Why do you distress yourself so Lizzy? This ought not to be too difficult" she said to the mirror.

"There is no one below whose approbation or good opinion you desire. You can survive another evening facing their slights and disapproving jabs."

The frown returned as she thought of Miss Bingley _and_ Mrs Hurst and…Mr Darcy. But it soon faded again as she thought another thought with certain pleasure.

"The only one you view with any regard at all, is already predisposed to thinking well of you and yours!" She smiled a genuine smile then to recall Mr Bingley's caring solicitude and lighthearted agreeableness.

Steeling herself, she stood up directly and walked with purpose to the door. Soon her muslin gown swished the wooden balustrade and her satin shoes graced the heavy wooden staircase with quickened steps. Before she knew it, she was ushered into the dining room where all but herself were assembled.

"Miss Eliza, how kind you are to join us. I was of a mind to think that you were to remain above stairs and have dinner in your sister's room." Caroline Bingley's voice dripped with unseemly affectation. Elizabeth shuddered involuntarily to detect it _and was Miss Bingley not just glancing at Mr Darcy as she spoke?_ Suspicion ran riot in her mind. _No doubt both the lady and the gentleman would have preferred me above stairs._ She thought _. But, 'tis no matter, the quicker I can get through dinner, the quicker I can leave._

The footman guided her to the available seat next to Mr Darcy. She inwardly groaned, having secretly wished to sit next to Mr Bingley to at least have had the enjoyment of amiable conversation.

"Miss Bennet," The gentleman said courteously.

She turned to look at him on hearing his familiar cool tones as he continued, "may I compliment you on your dress this evening and also express my hope that you left your sister well?" Somewhat startled, Elizabeth looked at him in surprise at the compliment which flowed without any effort from his lips. He only smiled politely awaiting her response.

"Yes..." She stammered out "I, I thank you and I thank you for your inquiry Sir. Jane appears to be doing better."

Her bemused reverie was soon broken by Miss Bingley's voice which resonated on all the wrong notes as she sat across from them.

"Oh! it is so very dreadful to be ill. Such an inconvenience! Do you not agree Mr Darcy? Ill-health can be so very taxing to one's household, so very inconvenient."

The gentleman looked a little bit surprised at her ill-breeding but said nothing. Mr Bingley however, chastised his sister accordingly, although, in so mild a fashion, as to have no one think it a rebuke. After that, the meal proceeded quite unremarkably toward the second course.

Feeling still somewhat disconcerted however, Elizabeth forced herself to concentrate on the meal before her, but she soon admitted that it was a bit of a vain struggle. There was _something_ about Mr Darcy's smile this evening that had created an unease within her and it was not something she could easily put a name to. She had not expected his compliment, _that was it!_ She felt sure that there was some ill-purpose behind it. Perhaps he and Miss Bingley had made a secret pact before to disparage and mock her behind the veil of compliments. She felt certain that, or something akin to it was the intent...and...yet...She sneaked a glance at him.

Through the whole of their acquaintance thus far, she could admit to herself at least, that the gentleman was a puzzle. He ran hot and cold. There were times when she genuinely felt that she could like him. She enjoyed hearing him speak sometimes. It was too obvious that he was well read and clever and being a clever girl herself, that was always an attraction. But then, his overbearing conceit and his ability to degrade and look down on those who were his inferiors, reminded her that he was not a good natured man. Those things were decidedly fixed against him. And...yet, one of his best friends was Mr Bingley, the waking definition of amiability. What did that say about _him_?! She returned her attention to her plate and proceeded to attack her piece of roast duck with her knife in great spirited frustration.

It was not the first time that she had found herself at odds in trying to understand the great Mr Darcy. And most certainly not the first time she thought that _his_ character would make a most interesting study. Glancing at her side, she observed him as surreptitiously as she could. As a man, there were not many who could boast of his particular blend of looks, with his tall, straight back, broad shoulders and upright noble bearing. He was in fact blessed with almost everything a man - _or woman, let us be realistic-_ she thought, could want. He was handsome, as the most handsome of his sex. He could not be faulted in that regard at least. He also had an innate elegance of movement, including in his table manners. _'Tis a pity his general social manners are so lacking_ she mused. Nevertheless, on this night she found herself watching with something akin to fascination at the way his long, tapered fingers touched his claret glass, almost stroked it, before he lifted said glass to his lips. The action sent a jolt of something, something totally unfathomable within her. When he had put the glass down again, she realised much to her mortification that she was found out.

"Is there something amiss Madam?" he inquired, watching her suspended fork in the air.

She put her hand down almost immediately. "No, I apologise, I was distracted by my own wayward thoughts. I beg your pardon Mr Darcy, I was not looking at you, that is to say, I _was_ looking at you, but not _at_ you. Well it was _at_ you but not..." She stopped.

"I understand Miss Bennet. No need to explain. We all are sometimes distracted by wayward thoughts."

Her face burned brightly, no doubt intensified by the candlelight.

Their dinner companion sitting across from them observed them with more than a little bit of pique. She had strategically arranged the seating so that _her_ eyes opposite to him would be his quarry. Seating Eliza Bennet at his side would only result in awkwardness of that she had felt certain. She had thought him too proud to court Eliza Bennet's conversation, that it would be too much of a mortification. Darcy's calm, satisfied manner however, annoyed and irritated her excessively and she soon determined to distract him.

"Oh Mr Darcy, I hope you will try this wine sir. When Charles mentioned that this was your favourite, I could not rest until I got some to enhance the time you are spending with us." With that Miss Bingley motioned to the footman and, with much credit to her ability as a hostess, soon ensured that a glass was swiftly poured for Mr Darcy. Her face grimaced in annoyance as she watched Mr Darcy motion to the footman for Elizabeth's glass to be filled.

"I must insist that you try this wine Miss Bennet. Of course now is not perhaps the best time of the year to be enjoying it. It is very much a spring wine, this pinot gris. But I can assure you, few wines taste better."

Elizabeth, not being much of a wine connoisseur herself, dutifully agreed to do so, silently having the worst sorts of expectations. She hardly thought that she and Mr Darcy would agree on anything. But, she was at least prepared to humour him. Miss Bingley looked on from the other side with dismay, then was struck with a rather devious thought. One she felt was the surest way for the impertinent young woman across from her to gain some disfavour in the eyes of the gentleman next to her.

"Oh yes Miss Eliza! Pray, do drink up! I can assure you, as of last week, the cellar is made quite full, especially of this most excellent wine recommended by Mr Darcy. it is well for a woman you know, to forge a connexion with wine...our lot in life and all that. I myself must confess that I find that after my third or so glass of wine, all my worldly troubles seem to just...disappear." She waved a hand in a dismissive motion.

Mr Darcy raised an eyebrow slightly at such a declaration, but said not a word as he shifted his glance away from Miss Bingley toward his more captivating dinner partner. He smiled to see Elizabeth close her eyes briefly as she savoured the refreshingly bright tones of the wine. And noted with satisfaction the pleasure that drifted across her face. She turned to him in surprise. "It is delicious!" He gave such a smugly triumphant look that she wished suddenly she had been less enthusiastic. It would do neither of them any good to start agreeing. In order to wrest herself from his attention, she drank some more. It was truly _that_ delicious. She laughed quietly to think that, on wine at least, she and Mr Darcy could agree.

"I say Darcy, this is fine stuff, fine stuff indeed!" Said Mr Hurst loudly from the far end of the table as he motioned the footman to refill his glass.

"Oh, my dear brother Hurst we all know Mr Darcy to have exquisite taste -" Miss Bingley's next words were cut short by Mr Bingley.

"I should like, on this occasion in which I partake of the wine that makes me now fully comprehend why my fine friend over there is such a much sought after ton favourite, owning the finest drinks and such, I wish to toast that fair angel above stairs. To her health and happiness! To Jane Bennet!" Bingley then drained his glass after lifting it to Elizabeth.

"To Jane Bennet" repeated Mr Darcy in a softer tone as he lifted his glass to Elizabeth and she, hers as she met his in a delighted 'clink' of understanding.

It really _was_ an excellent vintage. A _proper_ vintage.

Thus the evening progressed and with it, the light-hearted revelry that increased proportionally with the disappearing wine. Despite herself, Elizabeth was finding that she was having a good time, with much to be amused about, that is, she was certainly giggling a lot. She turned to her companion.

"Mr Darcy, has Hertfordshire improved upon closer acquaintance do you think?" Her pert expression quite lured him.

He looked at her with such a smile on his face as she had seen before and involuntarily her own smile broadened in response. She took another sip of her third glass of wine to mask it.

"Well, I cannot rightly say Miss Bennet, that the whole of Hertfordshire has improved. but I have found that the closest neighbourhood to Netherfield has improved dramatically. I quite approve of it."

"But that is Longbourn sir!" She said this in a loud voice that she almost did not recognise as her own.

"Indeed' the gentleman responded.

"What it is you are saying about Longbourn Darcy! Come come man, tell me now, you are not to hold back. I must have my share of the conversation. If you are to talk about Longbourn we must all talk about Longbourn!" Mr Bingley was quite enthusiastic.

"Charles, how much wine have you had?" Caroline Bingley interrupted sharply.

"Oh, more than I need but yet still not as much as I should have. I thank you Caroline for ordering it. And to you, my friend, for having the foresight to liking it." Grinning, he toasted Darcy down the table.

In a huff Caroline downed another glass of wine and motioned to the footman to refill it, this time to the very brim.

"Caro, do you not think you have had enough?" Lousia had asked her question innocently enough, but in the end was rewarded with a harsh look from her sister.

"I assure you Louisa, unlike others, wine does not bother me in the least!" She punctuated her statement with another deep inhalation of the beverage.

Not wishing to engage her sister in any tedious argument, Louisa calmly proceeded to finish her meal. For once she could not be bothered with Caroline. As soon as she could, she intended to make good her escape to her rooms and with any luck carry her husband along with her. Her new delicate condition had some decidedly unexpected returns that only he could satisfy. She watched anxiously at him from across where she sat. She did not want him too inebriated. That would do neither of them any good. Right now her mind was on her husband and her bed and the quicker she had both together, the better!. She did not care a wit about what Mr Darcy did or did not think about Elizabeth Bennet!

Meanwhile the lady in question was definitely becoming more spirited. She turned to her companion after watching Miss Bingley angrily stab at her dessert.

"Do you not see your effect Mr Darcy? You ought not to tease poor Miss Bingley in such a manner." Her amusement increased as yet again he raised an eyebrow glancing from Miss Bingley across the table and then back to her. Somehow, the look felt more intimate.

"You are correct, praise ought not to come from me to this neighbourhood, especially in front of Miss Bingley. We ought to be more discreet." He said it in a slightly arched manner, smiling again as if she were expected to follow his thoughts. But she was an uncomprehending as ever. The thought that she had no idea to what he was referring for some reason, amused her greatly and she laughed out loud, but in a way that showed it was just a joke between them alone. He lifted both his eyebrows as he observed her move her glass to her lips and miss them completely. Wine spilled against her chin unto her bodice. Elizabeth giggled unselfconsciously. "Oh!" She exclaimed, as if suddenly surprised at the occurrence. "I spilled some wine." Her complete lack of artifice thoroughly amused him as she dragged the end of the tablecloth forward and dabbed at her chest.

"Allow me, Miss Bennet." Darcy said as he pulled out his handkerchief. He had only intended to hand it to her, but she put forward her chest expectantly.

At his hesitating, she pouted "Come now Mr Darcy, you are not missish are you? Surely you have dabbed at wine before." She laughed again, and to his surprise, so did he. But he did it most consciously, it was a nervous laugh. Gently he reached his handkerchief to her chest and patted, the barest touch. But something, very much like arousal, spurred him on and he dabbed a bit more forcefully, his palm slightly flattened and was rewarded with the fullness of something soft and pliable retreating under his fingers and then bouncing back into place. Mr Darcy had copped a feel.

Suddenly, he dropped the handkerchief onto her lap as if it burned him and reached almost mechanically for his glass. Now his fourth. Elizabeth automatically followed suit and knocked her glass against his in a bit of camaraderie.

"Cheers sir." They both drank speedily.

He was convinced she had no idea what he just did.

She was convinced that he had no idea that she liked it.

Miss Bingley across from them seethed with smoldering anger..

* * *

An hour later found everyone in the music hall, sans Mr and Mrs Hurst, and they were all as drunk as could be. The two footmen on duty sighed to each other.

"Oh, it is to be one of _those_ nights, is it?" Bailey said to Frederick as he quickly swept up the broken wine glass.

"I tell you!" The other muttered testily, "these rich folks, them canna handle the liquor!"

Bailey grabbed two of the wine bottles. "Come Fred, let them work it off. I have a few shillings, get Maurice and Tipple. I can wager the wining hand tonight will be mine!." Laughing, Frederick agreed as they shut the raucousness of the music hall behind them.

At the pianoforte sat Elizabeth Bennet belting out a reel. On the dance floor Mr Bingley was spinning his sister around and around and around as Mr Darcy, sitting at the side of the pianoforte, commanding a view of the fair performer's face, clapped enthusiastically.

"Come now Miss Bennet! Your turn!" Mr Bingley grabbed Elizabeth off the musical equipment.

"But who will play?!" she shouted.

"Why Darcy of course!"

For some reason Elizabeth found the very idea of Mr Darcy playing the pianoforte to be absolutely hysterical. And she laughed and laughed as Mr Bingley now had both his sister and herself arm in arm being spun around and around and around.

Mr Darcy had a masterful expertise of the pianoforte. The man was full of surprises! She could not resist, extricating herself from the group, she moved deliberately to the pianoforte and, when she arrived, in all her energy, she almost fell onto the gentleman as he played. He grabbed her arm with one hand and steadied her as he guided her toward him to share the seat. She sat, her arm happily sliding to settle itself around his waist. It was a comfortable position and neither of them cared. She watched those long tapered fingers of his with fascination, her mind hardly registering what she saw as his fingers flew along the keys. It was a beautiful sight. She felt as if she could cry with joyfulness. But she only laughed instead, her arm tightening instinctively around him.

'You play brilliantly sir!" she said as she turned to him and he to her. the music still cascaded from his fingers. How it happened she would never know. Except that the moment it did was the defining moment in their lives. As they sat there, on the music bench, both at an awkward angle half turned to each other, smiling, laughing, then serious, the very corners of their lips met. For Elizabeth, her eyes half-closed, the delicious sensation felt absolutely...divine. His lips were smooth and soft and rich and sweet and powerfully intoxicating. Her body thrilled.

"You taste - " she said, pulling away in amazement

"Like wine" he finished, laughing.

He dipped his head to do it again and this time his fingers and the music stumbled then stopped completely as he released the pianoforte and focused on the woman next to him. He pulled her relentlessly into him. It was a moment of pure exhilaration when she moved to gain more of him. The kiss became heated and tempestuous, making her giddy. Then quite suddenly she felt like she was coming home as their battling lips subsided and he yielded himself to her. The music hall was quiet, totally still, the two remaining dancers had long since collapsed on separate chairs, insensible to the world. The footmen were in another room far away playing cards. No one witnessed their epiphany. No one was there to stop them. Not knowing what to do and letting only instinct guide her, passion unfurled in Elizabeth like a coil- swift, sleek and hot as she let Darcy in. Her hand slid down his as her fingers captured those long tapered ones that she had admired all night. She half stood to gain leverage as their fingers weaved themselves, creating a fine bond.

Elizabeth Bennet's mind was in a beautiful haze.

She was kissing Mr Darcy.

 _She was kissing Mr Darcy!_

And she liked it.

The end.


End file.
